I have hit a wall. Since J left I have had to move on with life, attend to things that have been scheduled in my life, and act as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened. Sure, people commiserate with me, but I cannot possibly wear my heart on my sleeve and mourn as I feel deep inside.
So I bury all my emotions and just do, do, do. Life goes on. It does. But when night falls it is a different story. I fall asleep but I cannot rest for long. I wake up long before my body is rested. I pray, and I pray, for his soul, for God's consolation and healing for his immediate family. I go for weekday mass. I do everything I possibly can to lessen J's time in purgatory although I believe that he is already with God. The practical woman in me does the needful, and together with his closest friends, I have been helping to dispose of his belongings which he no longer has need of.
God has been very kind to me, sending me light in the person of P (thank you, P, for making me smile), but the sorrow runs deep. A part of me, when I acknowledge it, is weeping still, mourning. I know that this is all part of the process, part of my life's journey, and yet, right now, I feel oppressed by my heavy heart, and all I want to do is to retire into some dark hole alone and never come out.
Yesterday's Gospel from John 13 is the imperative to love one another in order to glorify God. As Father Romeo said in his homily, it is not an option, Christians must love one another: we need to rise to the challenge of loving imperfect people in an imperfect world with no mind for self gain or any form of reciprocity. He spoke about four things necessary to live out Jesus' new commandment to us:
We must listen. We cannot let our own preoccupations render us deaf to the cries for help around us.
We must be open, let the Spirit lead us to become more tolerant, more forgiving and more merciful in our families and faith communities.
We must be visible. Faith and good works are the mark of a good Christian. We are called to love one another in real ways, perform acts of love especially where the other cannot possibly reciprocate.
We must engage in life, fully enter into relationships and give of ourselves. Father Matthew took it a step further last Tuesday when he pronounced that Christians are called to give what is most precious to them for the benefit of others.
Somehow J's passing has become an invitation to me to LOVE as Father Romeo encourages us to for J lived his life that way: he was a great listener, open to others without judging them, he performed little acts of service for people wherever he went, and he engaged people, making them feel welcome and special.
To paraphrase Father Romeo, loving others means risking pain, hurt, betrayal and persecution, but it also means risking wonder, life, joy and peace. While the pain of loss may seem onerous to me right now, I am also grateful for this burden for it means I have loved well and lived fully. And that makes it all worthwhile.
So I bury all my emotions and just do, do, do. Life goes on. It does. But when night falls it is a different story. I fall asleep but I cannot rest for long. I wake up long before my body is rested. I pray, and I pray, for his soul, for God's consolation and healing for his immediate family. I go for weekday mass. I do everything I possibly can to lessen J's time in purgatory although I believe that he is already with God. The practical woman in me does the needful, and together with his closest friends, I have been helping to dispose of his belongings which he no longer has need of.
God has been very kind to me, sending me light in the person of P (thank you, P, for making me smile), but the sorrow runs deep. A part of me, when I acknowledge it, is weeping still, mourning. I know that this is all part of the process, part of my life's journey, and yet, right now, I feel oppressed by my heavy heart, and all I want to do is to retire into some dark hole alone and never come out.
Yesterday's Gospel from John 13 is the imperative to love one another in order to glorify God. As Father Romeo said in his homily, it is not an option, Christians must love one another: we need to rise to the challenge of loving imperfect people in an imperfect world with no mind for self gain or any form of reciprocity. He spoke about four things necessary to live out Jesus' new commandment to us:
We must listen. We cannot let our own preoccupations render us deaf to the cries for help around us.
We must be open, let the Spirit lead us to become more tolerant, more forgiving and more merciful in our families and faith communities.
We must be visible. Faith and good works are the mark of a good Christian. We are called to love one another in real ways, perform acts of love especially where the other cannot possibly reciprocate.
We must engage in life, fully enter into relationships and give of ourselves. Father Matthew took it a step further last Tuesday when he pronounced that Christians are called to give what is most precious to them for the benefit of others.
Somehow J's passing has become an invitation to me to LOVE as Father Romeo encourages us to for J lived his life that way: he was a great listener, open to others without judging them, he performed little acts of service for people wherever he went, and he engaged people, making them feel welcome and special.
To paraphrase Father Romeo, loving others means risking pain, hurt, betrayal and persecution, but it also means risking wonder, life, joy and peace. While the pain of loss may seem onerous to me right now, I am also grateful for this burden for it means I have loved well and lived fully. And that makes it all worthwhile.
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